BZPRPG - Ko-Wahi

[Mr. House]

IC: (Sukot urn Voyuk)

 

"Loyalty is a fickle thing, I understand that well. Most sellswords would sell their mother for a widget. But I? I have an ounce of honor still left in me. If I sign a contract, I will keep it. But a piece of paper is not the only thing that would keep me loyal, sir. As you are likely the richest man on this island, it would be a highly idiotic thing for me to take up a job with anyone else. Why defect to some half-rate Captain who pays half as much?"

 

He kept his cool.

 

"Put me into your employ and I'll happily do more than spying. I have no qualms about-other kinds of work. However unpleasant it might be, I've done it and will happily do it again. I do not care about Ko-Koro, personally. I care not about Korzaa or the Guard. I'm simply a noble in a foreign land, trying to make something of himself. If I have to prove my loyalty, I will do it. Do it a quietly or as viciously as you desire, sir."

[Geardirector]

OOC: Blame it on my predisposition for exercising unusual levels of gentlemanly restraint that a posh Englishman would be proud of.

 

IC: Ferron (Drifts)

 

Ferron fell into step beside Rhea, once again wading through the snow as a contrast to Rhea light, sure-footed gait. His gaze fell on Nero, studying the muscular Toa of Air thoughtfully.

 

"What's his story?" he asked.

[Shadowhawk]

OOC:

Probably won't be active much until Monday... real life taking top priority, y'know.

IC: [ Rhea / Nero ] - Ko-Wahi / Drifts

The Su-Toa glanced quickly towards Ferron, then away. "That's a story in itself. Quite frankly, I don't think Nero himself knows, not really. He's from the Kumu Islets, or claims to be. Hard to say for sure; he's one of those people, those beings, who simply... exist. No beginning, no end, just an endless cycle with the moon and stars."

The Axe, although moving at quite a distance ahead from the two, picked up the gist of the conversation and was instantly on guard, the intense gleam in his acid-green eyes hazing into an indomitable remoteness. He said nothing, however, and showed no sign of having heard. He trusted Rhea, trusted her with his life.

"In another time, perhaps, another place, he could have been a legend of legends among his kind. A barbarian chieftain, a tribal warrior, a leader of hunters and a stalker of the beasts of ages past. As it is, he walks alone, and I think he prefers it that way. He's brutal, primitive. But there's an odd grandeur to it, as there is with all things that are primal of themselves. He's difficult to understand, because he does not think, does not reason, in a way that society recognizes."

She shrugged, smiled faintly. "So, his story? What story is there of the Muaka, of the Takea, of the Kane-Ra and the Nui-Jaga and even the Rahkshi? For Nero, Nero the Axe... it is to their world that he belongs, not ours."

[Geardirector]

OOC: And I'll be inactive come Monday. Funny how the world works sometimes.

 

IC: Ferron (Drifts)

 

As Rhea told Ferron what little there apparently was to tell, Ferron continued to look at Nero.

 

He had to admit, there was an element of fascinating enigma projected by the man whose wont was to walk more like an animal. It was already clear that he operated on a very different set of rules from most, but what those rules were, that was something he doubted even Rhea knew completely. He was strong, ruthless... and dangerous, and he hailed from a place where such attributes were groomed and encouraged.

 

Borne separately from shadows and heat, and now walking in shadows together; Rhea and Nero.

 

"You said you've been a bounty hunter for the last year, so Nero hasn't been with you very long, correct? How did, excuse me, a girl like you run into a guy like him?"

Edited February 14, 2014 by Geardirector

[Ghosthands]

OOC: The below is done with permission from Nuju Metru.

 

IC (Echelon)

 

Phase One: Physical

 

Analysis of the subject via physical testing has yielded some insight into its properties. Evidence suggests that it exists in only one state: a nebulous fluid, which appears to be somewhere between the gaseous and liquid phases; difficult to give a traditional classification. Extremes of temperature produced no visible change. Unaffected by electromagnetic fields and charges. Sample appeared to move of its own accord irrespective of outside forces; source of energy unclear; internal? Expect to learn more from chemical tests.

 

Phase Two: Chemical

 

Chemical tests have proved frustratingly inconclusive. Samples were unreactive with overwhelming majority of reagents; fortunately, re-extraction was relatively simple. Reaction was observed under combustive conditions - unfortunately, sample was destroyed. Only one reagent yielded visible results: a sample of my blood. Colour turned from red to black - appears to have melded with sample. Promising. Moving to biological testing.

 

Phase Three: Biological

 

Experimentation on living organisms has produced significantly more satisfying results. First wave of tests were made on small Rahi, so as to minimise unnecessary wastage of Antidermis. Substance appears highly caustic; majority of Rahi were destroyed shortly after exposure. A small number, however, were affected differently: visible blackening of colouration, and subjects developed previously unseen traits and increased aggression. One Acid Fly escaped from reinforced crystal tank and proved surprisingly difficult to terminate. Transformation only observed in particularly destructive species - interesting implications.

 

Second wave of in-vivo testing was conducted on Matoran captives, which were injected with small doses of Antidermis. Test subjects’ organic tissue was destroyed in a matter of seconds, resulting in death in all cases (see Table 3.4 for numerical data). Analysis of psychological profiles of subjects reinforces current hypotheses. No counterexamples available; irrelevant. I am confident. Moving to final phase.

 

Phase Four: Self-Exposure

 

Echelon stopped writing, setting his pen down on the worktop next to the notes. He gave them a final glance, before turning away and picking up a small syringe that lay on a nearby table. He picked it up, examining the Antidermis within. The smoky green-black substance coiled slowly in this glass prison just as it had when he had found it in that larger one, entrancing in its deadliness. Echelon reflected on what might happen if he was wrong, on whether he would shortly be another charred skeleton like those that now lay in his testing cells. Judging by his observations of the Matoran’s behaviour as their flesh and internals were eaten away by the Antidermis, the process had been excruciatingly painful. Was it worth the risk?

 

Yes, it was. The experiments all pointed to one thing: one thing that could only be confirmed by exposing himself to it. And if he was right...the implications were quite enticing.

 

He pressed the needle against a patch of exposed skin on his upper right arm, not giving the slightest wince as the metal point pierced the surface. Slowly, he brought his thumb down against the plunger, the pressure pushing the Antidermis out until every ounce of the eldritch fluid had been squeezed into his bloodstream.

 

He withdrew the needle. After a couple of seconds, he frowned. Strange; nothing seemed to be happening -

 

The syringe fell from his hand and shattered as a spasm of pain rippled through his body. The Dark Toa stared in shock at his right arm, which had begun to shake uncontrollably. Black lines had begun to spread out from where the needle had entered, criss-crossing down his arm and growing wider, blotting out the green and turning the black yet darker - all accompanied by a burning sensation that now began to spread across his chest. It was like fire surging through his veins.

 

He crashed onto the worktop, trying in vain to support his quaking body with the surface, his shuddering limbs sending glassware and scientific instruments crashing to the floor. His breaths came fast and spasmodic from his jerking chest. Though his hands scrabbled for a purchase on the metal, face taut in a futile snarl, he slipped further and further down until he collapsed, twitching, on the cold floor.

 

 

The pain stopped.

 

Echelon opened his eyes, surrounded by broken glass, rock samples and spilled reagents. Slowly, carefully, he moved, pulling himself up until he could lean against the table with both hands, breathing slow and deep. The arms that supported him were black as night.

 

Something felt...different. Looking down at the polished surface, he saw eyes of a ghostly green staring back at him from behind his Tryna - black as well. But that was not it; something deep inside him had changed. He reached inward with his mind, feeling his elemental power. There it was, that well of energy, deep inside. It was familiar, still, and yet something was new.

 

He raised a hand, calling on his power: and shadows sprang into being around it, coiling across his palm and around his fingers. His eyes darted to a nearby scalpel, and it too was enveloped by the little tongues of blackness, floating into the air on a cushion of magnetic force.

 

Echelon watched the blade hover there in front of him, probing the energy that held it there. It was still magnetism, but it was also more - and in that instant he knew exactly what it was.

 

He turned away from the desk, and look around at the objects scattered across the laboratory. One by one, every metal tool, every glass shard, every stone, every crystal, rose up and hung in the air as if suspended on invisible strings, each one rippling with shadows. Echelon exerted his will, and they spiralled inwards, latching onto each other, held together by a new Magnetism. Dark Magnetism.

 

The Dark Toa - and never before had that title been so fitting - smiled at his work. With a wave of his shadow-clad hand, the myriad items separated and flew back into their proper places and the laboratory was as it had been save for a pile of broken glass on one of the worktops.

 

The shadows ceased their dance, and Echelon strode out of the room, the metal door closing behind him.

 

There was only one thing this new power could be - one thing it must be. This was the long-awaited reward for his long years of service to Makuta. He understood the Antidermis now; it was the essence of destruction. It destroyed all life it touched, except for its chosen few, and to them it gave the tools to destroy - great and terrible tools. It had made him more powerful than ever before, and destroy he would.

 

Too long had he stayed his hand. Too long had he kept to the shadows, working in secret. Too long had the Matoran enjoyed this time of peace and prosperity.

 

It was time to bring back the fear and chaos in which he had thrived. And he would not be working alone.

Edited February 14, 2014 by GhosthandsOfChristmasPast

[Vezok's Friend]

OOC: Taking over Reordin as per request from Tyler.

 

IC:

 

It wasn't long before Korero came back. "Let's go." Jaa was off the hook for now, but there was more than enough left to do for them.

 

"Good." the Toa of ice said with a hint of relief. "I was starting to freeze out here."

 

He smiled innocently and began to walk; Korero just rolled his eyes.

[Shadowhawk]

OOC:

Well, Gear's not here at the moment... but I might as well throw another post in the chain anyways.

IC: [ Rhea ] - Ko-Wahi / Drifts

Again, the quick sidelong glance, the brief nimble flicker of the cool emerald gaze. And then the Su-Toa laughed, lightly, easily. "Yes, it does seem a rather atypical partnership, doesn't it?"

The words flowed deftly, but the undertone held a careful restraint. A coldness, a subtle warning.

Not here, Ferron. Not now. Don't ask again.

[sunflower]

Of Predators And Hunters

IC:

I edged slowly towards the door, doing a fair job at making a minimal amount of noise as my armored boots pushed aside the layer of snow had built up on the walkway earlier that night. A quick glance behind me confirmed that Savina was staying put, I didn't want her to get involved in this. Something about this didn't quite feel right, besides the obvious fact that someone was inside. Not to mention they were either extremely stupid, or didn't bother to cover up their arrival.

Now, I'd never heard of a Ko-Matoran breaking into a house within their own Koro, though there was a number of foreigners in this frozen city. Whatever the case, I had my spear in hand, and I felt pretty confident in my abilities to stop a thief. I pressed myself up against the ice-covered wall of the house, just next to the partly-open doorway. I didn't fancy trying to fit through one of the windows, and there wasn't exactly a back door to sneak around through. Had to go in head-on, no matter how much I disliked the prospect.

Right then.

Let's get this over with.

I gestured toward the door, palm facing toward the house, and the piece of wooden architecture silently swung inward as if pushed by one of the frigid breezes that wound their way around this place. Practicing with my element? Completely worth it. Look Ma, I can open doors with my mind.

Ma probably wouldn't particularly care, but eh, one can dream.

I slipped around inside, my back still against the wall. There was very little light inside, and it took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the relative gloom from the whiteout outside. It didn't help much when I could see, shapes were still indistinct and vague. Right, this was going to be fun. Cautiously, I stepped forward, my weapon still raised. The place was eerily quite, not that I expect too much noise from the intruder, even if they weren't too keen on keeping their arrival hidden.

The room was small, and it didn't take long for me to confirm with certainty that no one was sneaking around in there. And so I moved towards the adjacent room, the snow stubbornly clinging to my boots doing well to muffle my footsteps.

I entered the next room half-expecting to find a dagger pressed up against my throat, thankfully, I was disappointed. No knife-wielding maniacs as far as I could tell. Right then, maybe I was just paranoid-

I paused, and knelt down to pick up a ceramic jar off of the wooden floorboards. Now, I really didn't remember putting that there. Probably just fell. I placed it back on the shelf-

Wait.

Something dropped to the floor behind me. I couldn't hear it, though I certainly felt it through my feet.

I wasted no time, and swung my spear around in arc as I spun around to face a dark, vaguely Toa-like shape positioned just behind me. My attack never hit, as the figure stepped back to avoid the business end of a spear swinging towards his head. Before I had time to think, the being lashed out with what I imaged was a kick, one that connected neatly with my hand, and sent my weapon clattering to the floor. I wasted no time shooting my other arm forward, my hand curled into a fist, towards the center of the being's torso.

I was fast, and yet the intruder knocked my blow away almost without effort, forcing me on the defensive as he retaliated with his own flurry of blows. The first I caught on my arm, and managed to slip to the side of the second and third. I stepped forward, bringing my elbow up into what I assumed to be the figure's jaw. I felt it graze him, though he spun away, and I just managed to duck under the kick that accompanied the movement.

I launched myself forward, barreling into the figure's stomach and knocking him to the floor in an attempt to stun him. It didn't work exactly as I planned, as the being rolled backward with the movement, planting his feet on my torso before shoving me stumbling back. He was up in an instant, and already advancing toward me as I regained my balance.

The exchange of blows that followed was lightning quick, a flurry of movements that seemed to meld together into a single, indistinguishable action. I knocked a punch aside, and managed to get a grip on his arm doing so. My guard training kicked in, and I twisted the limb back and around, locking both the elbow and the shoulder. A quick blow, and I could break the joint.

I never got the chance.

The Toa moved into me, his free arm grabbing onto my own, and with a single movement, threw me over his shoulder.

I hit the floor with a grunt, the air forcefully leaving my lungs and refusing to return. The last thing I wanted to do was stay there lying on my back. I quickly rolled to the side, managing to get to kneeling, before I swept my leg around, parallel to the floor, knocking the intruder's feet out from under him.

He landed a whole lot better than I did, but I didn't give him time to get to his feet, as I moved forward to bring my knee down on his chest.

The being rolled back and away, and I was just barely able to keep track of his form within the darkness. Still, I knew where he was, and that was good enough for me. Not wanting to give him time to recover, I moved toward him as he got to his feet, bringing my knee up into his stomach. A small part of me smiled as I felt it connect solidly.

That is, until a fist I really didn't see came out of the darkness and planted itself squarely against my side. A hand latched itself onto my shoulder, and I really wasn't prepared to stop the uppercut into my naval that followed.

Right, just when I was able to breath again.

I lashed out with an elbow, though the being ducked under it, just before a sharp pain shot up my neck from my shoulder. I glanced over in that direction, only to see the being's hand move away from a dart, one of my darts, which was imbedded in the muscle there.

“Oh... Karz.”

As the world around tilted strangely to the side, and a feeling of blissful numbness spread across my body, I couldn't help but think how familiar that teal-armored hand had been.

[They]

OOC: Birthday post!

 

IC:

 

The pale vortixx's burns cracked and flaked, like dried fish sitting to rot in the sun. Her armor had been mutilated by the extremes of hot steam and cold weather, distinctly awful color patterns blooming across the legs and chest. Riaril rubbed the back of her neck, unsure. With Emotia she had used a bird's spine as sufficient biomass to reconstitute the missing spinal disk in the toa of water, but for the vortixx who's name was quickly becoming Crispy, Riaril found herself worried. The skin, flexible protodermic bionic sheet, was an easy enough fix, though undoubtedly there would be scarring in the areas of most severity. What bothered the one-eyed doctor, however, were the seared nerves. Nerve tissue was a hard and dangerous thing to heal, at any moment during the process a rogue signal could hit the brain and kill the patient.

 

"I want her strapped down," Riaril directed to the nurses who bustled about ER2. Her grim face was determined. Riaril sat on the swivel chair and rolled to the operating table's side, her right hand plunging into a bucket of cold water for stamina as her kanohi sana glowed with a cerulean radiance. "Here we go..."

 

The treatment began. Crispy's body shook violently against the restraints as the burned nerves began to regenerate under Riaril's guiding left palm. She moved slowly, methodically, taking breaks every few minutes to cough into a rag pulled from the pocket of her coat. At one point Riaril collapsed, but after a fresh bucket of water arrived she roused to continue with the grueling work. A nurse standing behind rubbed her eyes when she though a new scar appeared on Riaril's neck. Silly, how had she not seen such an old injury before?

 

"Just let her lay here for now," Riaril said when she had finished, head in her hands as great gulps of air flooded her lungs. "When she's awake, make arrangements to have her moved to the ward..." Her words trailed off, too tired to cogitate on a logical continuation. "I'll be upstairs."

 

Riaril rose and left. As she walked shakily out of the door, hand against the wall railing for stability. She had disappeared by the time a nurse found a rag laying in the hall.

 

A rag covered with blood.

 

OOC: Okay, Crispy (AKA: Kiara), is healed of her burns. However, she has scars on her body in the more serious portions (legs) which she will need PT to help remove for her to function fully as she used to. Also, I might suggest editing the character profile for Kiara to show the fact she may have new armor. You're call, Aurora, but in the case of such serious burning it would be a probable time to change armor.

Edited February 18, 2014 by Hatachi

[Klanadack]

IC:

 

 

"Back to the posters..."

 

It had been a painful day for Enax. He had attempted to stealthily follow two other Vortixx into a guarded building, thinking they were there to rob the place. When two toa showed up, a fight broke out, and a stray chunk of ice managed to knock Enax from his perch, sending him into the ground with such force, he probably received brain damage. So now it was back to trying to get a bounty hunting job, a occupation that had far too many people in it already. He tried to make the posters look good, saying that he would give the first person to hire him a "discount", or something like that, but he had tried this ploy many times before, and to no avail...

 

OOC: Open for interaction.

 

Enax will take bounty hunting/hitman type jobs, msg me if you wish to hire him.

Edited February 21, 2014 by PyroLizard Prime

[They]

IC:

Twist the lock until it clicks.

Pull off the sweat-soaked coat.

Start the tea.

Simple actions, or they would be if I wasn't holding myself against the doorframe of my bedroom, a hand clutched across my mouth to stop blood from dripping to the floor. The door hung open, rocking backward and forward behind me like everything else in my life: wavering and indecisive. Even I couldn't decide whether to live or die it seemed. Everything topples down and yet like some aberrant corpse I keep on going through the motions of my profession.

 

I kick the door closed and stumble to the sink, ignoring the bloody palm print left behind on the counter. My bedroom is the top of the central tower of the NM Research Hospital, accessed by a stairwell instead of the usual elevator system. It's round and a good thirty feet in diameter, scattered with the few household furnishings I've been able to pull together while pulling all nighters studying cadavers and trying, without success, to find a cure.

 

I let the cough finally break the silence of my bedroom. No one's around and the door's finally closed so why hold back? It's a wheezing, splitting hack crawling up my spine and out my mouth like an alien organism: I shiver when the blood splatters against the basin. The pounding in my head won't stop, my kanohi sana going haywire as it so often does since I dug through sandy soil to breathe fresh air: a nightmarish chance at new life I wish I'd never received. It took several gargles with frigid tap to get the metallic tang to dissipate, and all the while the back of my neck burns like fire.

 

After fighting with the obstinate cooktop to start the kettle I made my way, a sort of haggard shuffle to be honest, toward the mirror in the closest thing resembling a corner of my room. My Murphy bed was still out, sheets mangled from another sleepless night, and it gave a springy groan when I sat on it.

 

Luckily it was just me in the mirror tonight. That twisted and malicious smile playing across lips falsely accused with innocence was graciously vacant from the background as I slowly unbuttoned the neck of my coat, each little pearl taking a monumental amount of energy. How had I, top field surgeon and leader of Team Kanohi Dragon, wound up in the cold vista of Ko-Koro with nothing but a Murphy bed to catch my fall? My team had died violent deaths: crushed, impaled or incinerated. Karz, even I had died, or at least it very much felt like it at the time when I fell limp into Krayzikk’s arms. That titanic musculature had been my stable footing after the catastrophe of the Ta-Koro hospital and to wake in a casket was more than horrifying. I stare at my hands and remember how my fingers bled from tearing away at the inside of that small container as a stale air supply dwindled rapidly. It was utter darkness, and then when I broke through into the moist dirt and wormed my way back to the surface I was smothered, unable to take a breath without swallowing clumps of sandy sod. That first breath of clean air at the end of redemption was so short, so hastily performed.

 

"Shouldn't have crawled out of that coffin," I grumble to myself and look back at the mirror, turning my head until that ugly mass of scar on the left side of my face disappeared from view. There's a woman underneath the mass of silver lines and splotches circumnavigating her body but I can't see her anymore. As I figured the burning pain on the right side of my neck was just another affliction of my untreatable condition; a softly pulsing scab, which given time would fall off to reveal another scar just like the rest on my body.

 

I followed the contours of my body in the mirror with my hands, staking out the territory free from affliction: my arms, my right leg, the front of my neck. Elsewhere were the blatant signs of battle with my own profession. The silver scar running down the inside of my left calf had bloomed after treating that Polzin brat's 2D legs. The three lines on my ribcage appeared after Widgets sword wounds healed. I look back at my face and for the briefest of moments wonder if Krayzikk would even recognize me.

 

When had I started crying?

[Geardirector]

OOC:

 

Well, Gear's not here at the moment... but I might as well throw another post in the chain anyways.

 

IC: [ Rhea ] - Ko-Wahi / Drifts

 

Again, the quick sidelong glance, the brief nimble flicker of the cool emerald gaze. And then the Su-Toa laughed, lightly, easily. "Yes, it does seem a rather atypical partnership, doesn't it?"

 

The words flowed deftly, but the undertone held a careful restraint. A coldness, a subtle warning.

 

Not here, Ferron. Not now. Don't ask again.

 

OOC: I have returned, let the awesomeness commence

 

IC: Ferron (Drifts)

 

“Touchy subject, I see” Ferron thought, “fair enough”

 

Rhea was simply more protective of her past than Ferron was of his; different mechanism for coping with it, he figured.

 

“Indeed you are” he said out loud to Rhea’s spoken response, “but such is in the eye of the beholder, I suppose”

 

He said no more as he continued to wade through the snow beside her.

[Aurora the cat]

OOC: I have had less time than usual.

 

IC: Ferrum

 

The matoran sifted through the papers, like slabs of shale in a quarry. Then it caught his eye. A manila envelope. He opened it just to make sure, pulling out a sheet of paper and a key. He read the words scrawled across the paper "Red-star holding company. Space A-3-7-9 reserved for a(n) Emnature, Alac." In the palm of the fe-matoran's hand laid a key. Ferum judged it for a moment, watching the light play off of the surface of the cheap metal key.

 

He knew what he had to do. The fe-matoran stole away quietly into his private quarters, locking the door behind him. The words of Kiara floated into his head, "You can't just act like a new person, you have to become it." Become it he would. Ferum, for the first time in a long time, took off the welding mask, and judged his scarred Kanohi in the mirror. Quickly, he took it to off, placing it delicately in a drawer, picking up an auburn Kakama. He smiled.

 

-----

 

A short time later the small matoran made his way out the door of the facility, and to his destination.

 

OOC: Ferum to Onu-Wahi

[BULiK]

OOC: Well, it only took.... 3 months or so. ;-;

 

IC:

 

Kecand ducked under the jab, the wooden edge of the pole narrowly avoiding his head. His left hand pushed the scythe to the side with a burst of pakari-enhanced strength, the unexpected move hopefully throwing the woman off balance as she tried to re-stabilize the weapon. His right hand, still burdened with his patero launcher, pulled the trigger. An internal valve released a burst of compressed air, pushing a concave shell that in turn propelled perhaps a dozen small bamboo arrows, all in Kriigita's general direction. Hopefully she would be too busy trying to get her weapon back to a ready position that the arrows would soar unhindered at kecand's target. But he didn't factor in the strong gusts of wind being hurled at him, which caused several arrows to veer off course. The toa of crystal, meanwhile, got up and stumbled through the pressurized impacts the toa of air was dishing out, trying to get away from the berserk kriigita. Luckily his armor was specialized to protect him from the high-heat and high-pressure explosions that often were a part of his job. Thus, he could take in the air blasts better than a regular toa.

 

Kecand clipped his patero launcher to his backpack, for he would not have any time to reload and re-pressurize. Instead he equipped his shield on his left arm. He did not extend it to it's full size, instead leaving it to a more maneuverable compact form, the three interlocking plates on top of each other. The leather straps were quickly fastened to his lower arm, freeing his hand to pick out a grenade from his bandolier. His right arm now held his sword, channeling a bit of elemental power into growing the razor sharp crystal edge.

 

"What are you doing?"

 

 

IC:

Nichou stumbled along a faint pathway, eyes squinting through the harsh winds that blasted his kanohi, seeping through any and all holes in his kanohi, frost forming a fine layer over it. His coat was bound tightly around him, but it couldn't protect all of him from the wrath of below-freezing temperatures. The Onu-matoran's feet were slick with slush of snow melted by his body heat. While his natural armor was insulating to some extent, it was still metal. And in Ko-Wahi, all metal was cold metal.

Nichou was traveling beside two merchants, who, when not advertising their wares to the foreigner accompanying them - While fruit was delicious, eating frozen fruit didn't seem like a good idea when trekking for miles in the snow. Needless to say, it was a rather boring walk, plagued with a deluge of snow blanketing the landscape.

By mid-afternoon, Nichou could feel the slightly warmer air of the massif, on the border ko- and le- wahi shared. Eventually he arrived, taking in the landscape.

[Mr. House]

IC: (Jorruk Yokin)

 

Jorruk came closer. With every step forward, he hurled a blast of air, powerful enough to knock a person off their feet. Upon Kecand's question, Jor couldn't help but laugh. He was seriously asking them why they were attacking? He found it rather absurd.

 

"We are doing what must be done, good sir."

[Ghosthands]

IC (Korero)

 

"We'd better find the others before you catch a cold," Korero remarked dryly. "Let's head to the Sanctum, we can probably find them there after Sulov's tagged Ambages."

[BULiK]

IC:

 

Kecand was propelled backwards by the gusts, which kicked up a lot of loose snow, further disorienting the toa who flew backwards mid-air for a microsecond before the snow cushioned a landing that could have been worse. Kecand pushed himself off the ground whilst reconsidering his strategy. He was outnumbered 2 to 1, each enemy disrupting a takedown of his/her comrade. The hostile intentions were clearly being expressed in bloodthirsty ways, which would be a legitimate reason to fight back and arrest the duo. Clearly this ##### of a le-toa would not play nicely to any long range combat, and didn't seem to be toting any large melee weaponry. If he got up close, it might be easier to incapacitate him. The other one seemed like more of a threat, skilled with a scythe and such. Both of the enemies having elemental powers was an issue.

 

But Kecand had his own.

 

The toa of crystal, as soon as he was on his feet again, threw the grenade at Jorruk, clearing his left hand for other uses. After that was done, he began crouching low to the ground and maneuvering his shield, both to defend from the air blasts. His sword bearing arm subsequently jabbed the sword into the ground, holding on with pakari strength so that Kecand would not be blown away again by the continuous blasts of air. His pakari also would make it easier to retrieve the sword from the ground faster if he needed to.

 

In his now-free left hand, three heatstone throwing knives grew in his grip. His armor had good insulation so his hands weren't burnt holding them, but when these puncture the skin and hit all the nerves below, you'll feel as if you were being branded like a mahi.

 

"Well in that case, there are a lot of things that need to be done to you - in the name of the law," came the belated response.

Edited February 23, 2014 by BULiK

[Mr. House]

IC: (Jorruk Yokin)

 

Jorruk had an idea about what the grenade was. Mostly from its lit fuse. With a concentrating blast of wind, he hurled it back at Kecand.

 

"We have our own laws. Come now, you won't see any harm."

[They]

OOC: Forgetting someone?

 

IC: Kriigata

 

She spun clockwise as Kecand's forearm smashed against the stave, her front foot digging a hole in the snow as she turned about face, back leg whipping out in a vicious kick. Kriigata's eyes narrowed as the attack met empty air, the toa of crystal having been blown out of the way by a gust of wind. With every passing moment in Jorruk's presence the young acolyte's disgust mounted. He was clumsy and uncoordinated with her elegantly planned barbarism.

 

When this is over I'll slit his throat, Kriigata swore as her mask faded her into the weather. The patero launcher's charge missed the silver and blue toa of iron, her speedy movements already having taken her far out of harm's way. Her hands had switched grip, keeping the blade behind her while she sprinted, tearing through the small dip in the drifts that marked the current boundary of their savage fight. As Jorruk moved forward to engage Kecand Kriigata waited, watching the stolid warrior dig his sword into the snow, crouching low in a defensive stance against the onslaught of slush and air. Her movement inaudible over the rushing wind Kriigata positioned herself behind and whipped her scythe through the gap between Kecand's left arm and torso: blade stopping at the chest as she brought a leg to bear on the small of his back.

 

"And if it weren't for our laws you'd be good as dead."

 

OOC: No auto-hit. The scythe hasn't touched Kecand, but I have taken liberty of using all the time given to Kriigata during the several actions both Kecand and Jorruk performed. Same with her foot: think of it as still in motion to reaching its destination. Good to have you back Bulik!

Edited February 24, 2014 by Hatachi

[EmperorWhenua]

IC: (Sukot urn Voyuk)

 

"Loyalty is a fickle thing, I understand that well. Most sellswords would sell their mother for a widget. But I? I have an ounce of honor still left in me. If I sign a contract, I will keep it. But a piece of paper is not the only thing that would keep me loyal, sir. As you are likely the richest man on this island, it would be a highly idiotic thing for me to take up a job with anyone else. Why defect to some half-rate Captain who pays half as much?"

 

He kept his cool.

 

"Put me into your employ and I'll happily do more than spying. I have no qualms about-other kinds of work. However unpleasant it might be, I've done it and will happily do it again. I do not care about Ko-Koro, personally. I care not about Korzaa or the Guard. I'm simply a noble in a foreign land, trying to make something of himself. If I have to prove my loyalty, I will do it. Do it a quietly or as viciously as you desire, sir."

IC | Ambages

 

The Hand calculated his odds quietly; he found himself in a unique situation that wasn't likely to happen again. As he understood it, he did need allies in the Guard, to observe and inform if not so much to perform, though that was an added incentive. The possibility of betrayal lingered, however; Sukot had not provided a way to prove his loyalty for Ambages. After all, he could easily bluff and go back to tell Korzaa or accept an added job for her due to any lingering conscience he may end up having. No matter if Korzaa could only pay 1% of what Ambages could, it was still 1% more money than what Ambages already payed. That was incentive enough for betrayal, depending on the person.

 

Mercenaries were a slippery slope -- no words could change that -- and were a double-edged sword in all cases. The Hand did not trust Sukot; he did not want him. But he did have a use for him. The Hand would have nothing to do with a common sellsword, irregardless how uncommon the sellsword deemed himself. Sukot would not be bought by Ambages, but rather he would be owned.

 

"I am the richest man on Mata Nui, this is true, but all that money alone doesn't mean anything," Ambages said. He leaned back and linked hands behind his head as he greatly relaxed in posture. "Money doesn't translate to knowledge or happiness or even power -- only power can mean power. I don't deal in mercenaries, Sukot -- remember that."

 

Ambages grimly smirked as he kicked the release button beneath the akiri's desk, opening the beneath Sukot and revealing a deep, narrow abyss that led to the dungeon beneath the citadel. Sukot was quick due to his military training and sharp reflexes and made a valiant effort to sidestep the sudden trap, but he just barely failed in the act as his foot only slightly caught the edge of the door, not enough to maintain his balance, and fell backwards into the tunnel.

 

The Hand waited until the sound of Sukot's descent gave him no more joy and then hit the button again, closing the door once again. He would go and visit the mercenary later and deliver an ultimatum, but for now he was safe and contained as a hamster, unable to be a threat to anyone.

[Mr. House]

OOC: Touche

 

IC: (Sukot urn Voyuk)

 

The fall was surprisingly fast. Sukot hadn't any time to break his fall. He tried to stretch his arms and legs out, but it simply was too slippery. He went down for Mata Nui knew how many feet, before landing on a rotted pile of straw. At this, he breathed a sigh of relief. The ones back at home had nice spikes at the bottom. Then again, home was a bloodier land. Sore and dazed, the soldier of fortune began to regain his composure.

 

He was deep under the Sanctum, obviously. The room he was in was claustrophobic and near dark. There was barely enough space to stand, but thankfully enough to lay. A dim, faded lightstone was the only light. Mounted in a corner, he could see vaguely the straw he was on, the bucket in a corner, and the thick ice door in front in him. Which made him wonder for a moment, what wasn't made of ice.

 

As for his situation, he was intelligent enough to know he wasn't going to be able to escape, not at all. He could use his iron powers to break the door's locks, and try to make an escape upwards. But that thought wasn't rather sound. Ambages would likely name him an attempted assassin, perhaps Matoro's assassin, and sent him to the gallows for it after his likely capture. Why did the Vizier send him down here, anyways?

 

The simple answer would be that he distrusted Sukot, and wanted him imprisoned to keep him from talking, or perhaps betraying the Koro. He hoped Ambages wasn't in the mood to kill him. He knew that at any moment thugs could be sent down to off him. Other, wilder possibilities swirled in his head. Was Ambages a secret murderer who trapped those like himself to kill them? Did he send him down to perform horrible medical experiments? His imagination wandered for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that anything could happen. Anything.

 

Having left his arms with Ambages' guards, he hadn't any weaponry on him. But, he could easily make some. sticking his hand out in front of him, he began to form a crude, jagged blade of protosteel. Rough as it was-it would be useful for defense. Hiding it under some straw, he sat slouched in a corner. Taking out his flask out of a coat pocket, he began to sip the scotch, sip the warmth.

[Tohunga_Hukii]

IC: Krakulhi (sanctum)

 

Krakulhi's eyes throbbed after a hard day of reading. He could barely make out the scribes on the Wall of Prophecy, and knew it was time for a break. He could almost feel his soft bed on his tired body. He was about to leave when he heard some movement down under the Sanctum, almost like someone falling. He wondered if it was worthwhile to investigate. After all, the life of an adept was sometimes an uneventful one. He descended to the lower levels of the Sanctum, and saw nothing out of the ordinary, except one closet's door lay closed shut. "Odd." He used his Miru to levitate the door handle up and open, but was scared to see the closets contents.

 

OOC: Dont hurt me Sukot

Can I help you escape?

Edited February 25, 2014 by Tohunga_Hukii

[EmperorWhenua]

IC | Prison Guard

 

The sound of another inmate falling through the chute into the akiri's office's designated holding cell stirred the otherwise stoic mind and eyes of the dungeon guard.

 

The cell was one of the added measures co-engineered by both Matoro and Ambages as a swift way to deal with unwanted solicitors, would-be assassins or otherwise annoying or dangerous persons who made it up to the akiri's desk, either out of stupidity or accomplishment. It had been employed only a couple times before, but so far only as tests, so when the guard heard the sound of a descent he was less than enthusiastic about checking on it. If it were a tester he would hear a password and open the door, but as he paused and listened intently for the anticipated phrase he was met with silence and some scratching. Suddenly he realized this was the real thing.

 

Curiosity was not one of his finer aspects. As a Sanctum Guardsman tasked with the laborious duty of holding a watching over the dungeon with his fellow squadmates he was stern and unwavering as they came, but he still wanted to know what the deal was and what circumstance activated the use of the trapdoor chute. He gave the other guards a knowing look and then calmly walked to the sealed door of the confinement cell, opened a small vent and spoke into it.

 

"What were you sent down here for?"

[Mr. House]

IC:

 

"I presume the Hand wants to talk with me down here," he lied. He didn't know at all what Ambages wanted. "Interesting trap, is it not?"

[Tohunga_Hukii]

IC Krakulhi

 

The ko-matoran sees a prison guard walk up to the door. Prison? This is a place of learning and peace, not to hold undesirables. He started to question the safety of his job. The prison guard asks the contents of the cell what he is doing there, and he mentions something about a "hand" talking to him. Quite odd indeed. Krakulhii proceeds to walk up to the guard, and says, "I would like to ask YOU the same thing." "As far as I know, no ones allowed below the Sanctum except the Adepts and Acolytes that study here"

[EmperorWhenua]

Ooc: Tohunga_Hukii, there have been many changes to the Sanctum from the original setup, among them a vast expansion to the halls themselves, including a wing of administrative offices for the akiri, the scribe, the captain of the guard, etc. Far below the offices are the prison cells, though it's more of a dungeon all things considered. This post right here would do a better job describing it to you and I strongly encourage you to read it so you can play more accurately. Since Krakulhi was one of the "originals" he would be more aware of the circumstances than he seems right now.

 

IC | Prison Guard

 

"The chances of Ambages coming down to talk to you are slim if he activated the trap on you," the guard said. He recognized Sukot's voice but didn't say anything about it. It was clear that the trap was used purposefully and that was the end of it. "Same with Korzaa."

 

The sound of an arriving person furred the guard's brows and made him cut the conversation with the imprisoned Sukot short. "Good luck," the guard said and shut the vent. He turned to face the newcomer -- an adept of all things. Since when do scholars come down there? Since when have they been allowed down there? They weren't.

 

The guard glared at the adept and his curiosity. "This is the koro prison, adept," he said simply. "I'm doing my job, and you're a long ways from yours."

[Tohunga_Hukii]

OOC: Targaryen, sorry, I didn't know they changed the sanctum. I assumed they would leave the sanctum like it was to preserve its antient-ness.

Then again, Ambages wouldn't care about that. Won't happen again. Lack of pre-reading on my part.

 

IC Krakulhi

 

"Funny, I didn't think it was a prison guards job to babysit inmates." Krakulhii walks back up to the sanctum. "Stupid brutes", he mumbles under his breath. He makes a mental note to sneak back down there once the guard leaves. "Maybe that inmate can be useful to me if I help him escape."

Edited February 26, 2014 by Tohunga_Hukii

[Mr. House]

IC: (Sukot urn Voyuk)

 

"Thank you, I do believe I'll need it," he said, in a calm voice. He took another swig. Good it was watered down, he thought.

 

OOC: Forgiven, Huwkii. It's a simple mistake.

[Tohunga_Hukii]

IC Krakulhi

 

Krakulhi walks back down the stairs when the guard leaves his post to check on other inmates. He approaches the cell holding the one he called Sukot, feeling a chill down his spine. Funny, its kind of hard to get a chill when your a ko-matoran.

 

He peers through the vent and gets his first good look at Sukot, instantly regretting his coming down here. He whispers, "Why are you locked down here?"

[EmperorWhenua]

Ic: The guard, however, never left. His job, as well as for the rest of the squad in the cell block, called for him to remain present at all times.

 

"Leave," he commanded the adept.

[Mr. House]

IC: (Sukot urn Voyuk)

 

"Me? I'm in here because of an oddly placed door," Sukot said sardonically, taking another swig. "I suggest you leave. The political climate nowadays isn't much kind to those who disobey. Especially within the seat of power."

Edited February 27, 2014 by Rhaegar Targaryen

[Tohunga_Hukii]

IC Kakulhi

 

The only climate I care about is the cold one outside. If you plan on rotting in this cell for the rest of you life drinking scotch, that's fine with me, but the only power in here is knowledge, and that's something I do have. Not some guard. Speaking of which, he'll be coming back soon, so do you want out of here? I think I know a way. But its going to involve that crude protosteel blade of yours.

[EmperorWhenua]

Ic: "..."

 

Noooooope, the guard thought. He had been ignored by the adept, which was unfortunate for the scholar who was apparently dimwitted as he was deaf. The guard nodded to the other soldier in the prison block to confirm a united front in the situation; what was going to happen next would require more than a single man's word. Then, without hesitation, the guard violently lunged and tackled Kakulhi to the floor before forcibly grabbing his wrists and shackling them.

 

"Adept," he said harshly as he pulled him back to his feet and pushed him towards a cell distant from the solitary confinement room Sukot was in, "I'm arresting you for failure to cooperate with a Sanctum Guard, instigation to free a prisoner of the koro and treason against Ko-Koro. You should have listened to me when you had the chance."

 

Ooc: I'm afraid you walked into this one. Note that my language has always specifically stated that the dungeons are very high security, the guards never leave and this particular guard has given Kakulhi plenty opportunity to leave, the fact that Kakulhi should never been able to be down there in the first place notwithstanding. As a result of your carelessness, Kakulhi is now under arrest and will be charged with the crimes listed. Unfortunately there is no way to escape this on your own, especially considering the harsh environment and tough love of the current koro justice system. There are other guards present, so attempts at fighting back would only result in something far, far worse.

 

Just play more realistically with the information of the setting already made so you don't make this sort of mistake again, mkay?

Edited February 28, 2014 by Daenerys Targaryen

[Mr. House]

IC: (Sukot urn Voyuk)

 

Some people were stuck in the old Mata Nui, he thought. It was obvious to all but the isolated and the blind. The days of small villages besieged by Makuta were gone. Those villages were cities, Turaga, Captain, and advisors replaced with vast bureaucracies. The Sanctum wasn't just a church anymore, why some scholars still thought it was baffled him. Taking another swig, by now, he felt mildly tipsy. He had only his thoughts to entertain him in this dull little icebox.

 

His mind began to wander as he corked his flask. He needed his wits when Ambages came. If he did at all.

[Tohunga_Hukii]

Ic: "..."

 

Noooooope, the guard thought. He had been ignored by the adept, which was unfortunate for the scholar who was apparently dimwitted as he was deaf. The guard nodded to the other soldier in the prison block to confirm a united front in the situation; what was going to happen next would require more than a single man's word. Then, without hesitation, the guard violently lunged and tackled Kakulhi to the floor before forcibly grabbing his wrists and shackling them.

 

"Adept," he said harshly as he pulled him back to his feet and pushed him towards a cell distant from the solitary confinement room Sukot was in, "I'm arresting you for failure to cooperate with a Sanctum Guard, instigation to free a prisoner of the koro and treason against Ko-Koro. You should have listened to me when you had the chance."

 

Ooc: I'm afraid you walked into this one. Note that my language has always specifically stated that the dungeons are very high security, the guards never leave and this particular guard has given Kakulhi plenty opportunity to leave, the fact that Kakulhi should never been able to be down there in the first place notwithstanding. As a result of your carelessness, Kakulhi is now under arrest and will be charged with the crimes listed. Unfortunately there is no way to escape this on your own, especially considering the harsh environment and tough love of the current koro justice system. There are other guards present, so attempts at fighting back would only result in something far, far worse.

 

Just play more realistically with the information of the setting already made so you don't make this sort of mistake again, mkay?

OOC I wanted to get arrested mkay

pretty much no action around here.

Besides, who said I was on my own?

 

 

IC Krakulhi

 

Krakulhi talks to Sukot through the cell door vent

 

"Sukot, what do you plan on doing when Ambages comes hm? Negotiating your escape? Drinking away your sorrows? Complying? I don't, so unless you plan on Ambages freeing you we better start thinking.

Edited March 1, 2014 by Tohunga_Hukii

[Mr. House]

IC: (Sukot urn Voyuk)

 

"Boy, this isn't anything you want to get yourself tangled in," Sukot said. "Go with the guard, if Ambages comes to me, I'll ask him to let you go. Go."

Edited March 1, 2014 by Rhaegar Targaryen

[Wotz]

IC: Kuhrin

 

The boulders this high in the mountain had been frozen in place. If it wasn't for the several feet of snow between him and the ice, Kuhrin would more than likely have broken something by now. Not that it mattered, giving the wind threatening to tear him from the ground, and the very air itself turning his blood into a solid. These, and the slightly disgruntling fact that he was going into business with a grizzly bear.

 

With his sonic abilities constantly turned on to a low level, Kuhrin searched the surrounding area with his sonar, seeking signs of his quarry as he marched. At first, there was nothing but the occasional rahi corpse, or a scratch in one of the rocks. But as he delved deeper into the maze of jagged grey stone, more and more signs of an inhabitant began to show. Burnt wood from a fire, more remains of wild creatures that would not wander this far on their own, and eventually one or two abandoned caves that had evidently been used as dwellings. He was close now.

 

By now, he mused, the sun could be going down, and he would never know until it was too late. He'd have to hide under one of these overhanging rocks, which logically would not be hospitable given their abandonment by his weaker prey. A blizzard was beginning to take shape now, but it simply motivated him to move quicker. Soon, the blizzard had transformed into a blinding white sheet trying to stunt his progress, but it was in vain; nothing would stop him finding his target.

 

At last, he found it: A circle of elongated boulders, forming a sort of fence around what appeared to be a primitive shelter built out of rock, with a torn cloth hanging over the entrance to cover the flicker of a flame within. Kuhrin smiled triumphantly as he dropped from his perch into the circle. The snow grew shallower as he neared where it had been compressed into hard ice around the shelter.

 

The fire was suddenly blocked by a slender shadow, which stretched out across the snow, fragmented by the curtain. The smug grin on Kuhrin's face faded slightly as he came to a stop, seeing that the man he sought was no longer the proud hero he had been in days gone by.

 

Where there had been muscles, there was now only flesh and bone. His once gleaming silver armour was matted and grey. His face was scarred, frozen into a look of concern. His eyes questioned Kuhrin's presence - why had he come here, what more was there to take. Then they burst into flames, and the anger, the strength of his past self returned as his body stretched and twisted out of proportion. Claws grew from his hands; his eyes turned pitch black; his height increased by two thirds. What was once a painful transformation had grown comfortable.

 

Kuhrin looked up at the Parakuka creature in awe, proud of his work from so long ago, and smiled.

 

"Hello, Desuka."

[They]

IC: Riaril

 

One...

 

Two...

 

Three...

 

The rafters swam into focus as my eye opened, and the sound of a matoran whistling finally registered properly in my head as the tea kettle. I rolled over, caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Sleep hadn't done much to improve me. If anything I looked even further into the grave.

 

They say there is a certain elegance in death and I agree. To lay so perfectly still as only a corpse can, without tension in the muscles, without nerve communication or flowing blood through veins seems almost angelic. Even the gray pallor of the deceased has an ethereal quality. With the dead you never see the whole thing, only the physical remains of something much larger. They do not react; you cannot bring a dead man to return verbal blows. They're somewhere else away from all of it. Just away. The legends speak of Artahka and Karzhani, but I think things aren't so clean cut. Wherever we go I feel it's like Ko-Wahi: cold, silent save the whispering of bodiless souls on the wind.

 

My steps were furtive as I crossed the bedroom to the burner. I watched my hands shake as I poured the boiling water over the morning's tea leaves, still in their strainer after an eight hour shift, into a mug. I took a few minutes to relax, look out the window, smoke a cigarette. I'd kicked the drinking after Ta-Koro but smoking... Smoking was proving difficult. The tobacco was soothing, like my mother wrapping a warm blanket around my shoulders at night when Gabel was still hanging around the house.

 

"Sucks," I grumbled incoherently as the grey smoke bounced against the closed window. It sought an escape like me and again like me found none. I was still alive, and while alive I might as well heal somebody. Slipping back into my doctor's coat I grabbed my mug and descended back to the wards for a few rounds.

 

OOC: Riaril open for interaction with patients at the NMRH

[Shadowhawk]

IC: [ Rhea / Nero ] - Ko-Wahi / Drifts

Thirty-six minutes before sunset, the second day of the hunt, the grim-faced trio reached the jagged greystone cliff that Kuhrin had descended during the previous night's stormfall.

The trail to this point had been hard; more than once, even Nero's trained and cautious eyes had failed them, and much time had been lost. In the opens, all signs of the fugitive's travel had been erased by the driving snow; along the ridgelines only were the marks of passage still evident to a searching gaze.

They had lost the track, time and again, but always, always they had found it once more and struggled on, unyielding and undefeated.

Darkness was falling once more, now; the ice-laced wind hissed a demon's promise to the slopes. Stretched out before and above them as they stood, three dark hunters etched against a gunmetal sky, lay a broken, brooding alpine maze of stone and ice and creeping blackness, a boulderfield labyrinth, of the sort not uncommon to the rugged slopes of great Mount Ihu.

Nero looked and drew breath, reflexively testing the wind. He said nothing, merely waited.

Rhea wearily drew a span of tight-woven climber's rope from her pack, working the knot free with careful fingers. She was tiring; the deep snow and the constant chill had battered her stamina from blazing inferno to a hot and steady ember, and she hurt... not in any place particularly, just an all-pervasive ache of body and mind that she had felt before and would no doubt feel again in days to come.

No use dwelling on it. Taking her time, the Su-Toa lashed one end of the coil tight about a convenient stone outcropping, then tossed the rope into the abyss and watched it fall into noiseless white-laced shadow.

She managed a faint smile. "Ladies first... except in times of trial. Lead on, Ferron."

OOC:

This is occurring at roughly the same time as Alex's last Kuhrin post, BTW.

[Geardirector]

IC: Ferron (Drifts)

 

Ferron looked up from where he'd been kneeling down in the snow, though what he'd been doing was not evident at first.

 

"I swear, sometimes I feel it's my lot in life to always be the one who goes first, so that those who follow will have a lighter load" Ferron remarked dryly.

 

"No offense to you, of course" he added as he accepted the rope. He took one deep breath, and swung himself over the edge.

 

His large frame was poised to slam into the rockface, but he'd prepared for that, and swung his legs forward, the soles of his feet slamming into the mountainside and... staying there. He did not swing back. The crystal flurry whirled around him, screaming at him with heartless rage, but he did not fret.

 

Ferron grunted, a sound which supposedly was positively inclined, for his little trick had worked, metal hooks under his feet allowed him to grasp onto the uneven hill, and therefore slowly being inching himself down carefully suspended by the rope. His metallic hand took the role of the upper grip, assuring that if he lost his footing he would still have a strong grip on the rope itself

 

Ferron was not a rope aficionado, but he could recognize good craftsmanship when he saw it, and the climbing rope certainly qualified, more than likely it would hold.

 

The hilltop had disappeared from his sight now, and the bottom was no more visible, at this point he was in complete limbo, the only thing driving him forward through the white streamers lashing against him being his never-wavering thirst for revenge.

 

Kuhrin could not evade them forever.